


The First Drop of the Rest of Their Lives

by Anonymous



Series: Agere Omens [5]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Age Play Caregiver Aziraphale (Good Omens), Age Play Little Crowley (Good Omens), Age Regression/De-Aging, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Diapers, Fluff, Gen, Infantilism, Light Angst, M/M, Non-Sexual Age Play, Wetting, Worldbuilding, bottle feeding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-04
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-17 19:36:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29846469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Crowley gets a visit from an uninvited guest, and panic ensues.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Agere Omens [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2009284
Kudos: 26
Collections: Anonymous





	The First Drop of the Rest of Their Lives

**Author's Note:**

> This update's been a long time coming, I know. I hope it makes sense, and more importantly I hope you enjoy it. Thanks for sticking with me.

"Crowley, this is the third time we've come here. Are you certain nothing catches your fancy?"

They both look a bit out of place inside the colorful and whimsical building, even among caregivers and littles like themselves. Aziraphale is full of hope, but Crowley appears to be the last person who wants to be in the shop, even less than a few overworked staff members who are grinning and bearing it. Toys and treats surround them, accessible at all angles and heights. Laughter and excited chatter blend into the background.

"Been the same selection like the last two times, yeah?" Crowley frowns, but then catches Aziraphale mimicking his facial expression. "Angel, I know you want to spoil me rotten, but this just isn't the way, I guess. I'm not human. Maybe that's the reason."

Aziraphale sighs, but nods. "I thought maybe something would appeal to you by now. It's been quite a few weeks."

"Don't feel bad, angel. I got my drawing supplies, I really love them. We can come back when things run out, yeah?" Crowley asks, pressing his fingertips against his lips for a moment before pulling them away shyly.

"Oh, yes, of course." Honestly, they can get more paper and pencils just about anywhere...

Aziraphale loves Crowley no matter what. Gabriel and Beelzebub had wanted it to be hard work to take care of Crowley under the effects of his true classification, and to make him miserable. But the only thing making the angel miserable is the fact that Crowley hasn't shown how little he truly is.

Despite Crowley showing immaturity and babyish habits at home (and starting to fail at hiding them in public), he hasn't dropped. Aziraphale's new book, the Caregiver's Touch, is the most-recommended book for caregivers, filled with lots of resources and information that even the freshest face in the caregiver community would benefit from its texts. He's read it several times, despite having the opportunity to read other books. Every readthrough, he comes upon one of the most important milestones in a little's life: the first drop.

It's supposed to be a stressful and confusing time for the little, but also an open window into their true self. Suppressing it is extremely unhealthy, though some try for as long as they can manage, particularly those without a caregiver. There are different ways to do it. The most popular among humans is medication, and most of it is obtained using dubious means, as it is only prescribed in emergencies, such as a caregiver passing or needing hospitalization and the little needing to care for themselves for a slightly extended period of time, and only if there are no other caregivers or baselines who can step in, which is rarely. Some also try hypnosis, extreme lifestyle alterations, or simply just faking it (which doesn't work well the younger the little regresses).

Crowley hasn't been fighting it tooth and nail as much as before, but he wavers, trying to act 'big' when strangers are around or if they have to go out. Other times he's perfectly fine drawing pictures, watching cartoons, playing hide and seek where he shouldn't... 

Whenever he tires, that's when Aziraphale notices it most. The moments where Crowley can't bring himself to stand up or even crawl because his legs are weak and sometimes sore, and his sense of balance is off. When he grows quiet and doesn't realize he's sucking on his fingers or fidgeting with a nearby object. When he wants nothing more than a glass or bottle of milk or to lay on the couch with a soother and let time pass. Occasionally Aziraphale will be addressed with a babbled sentence that he doesn't understand, but nods to anyway with a warm smile.

But when a little truly drops, there's no hiding or holding back. It'll be Crowley in his purest form. Crowley from before the world was born. 

Aziraphale's been so excited to care for him during a drop, but he won't and he can't force it. "How about lunch?" He suggests as they leave the store and step onto the street. That's a 'big' thing to do, even if the humans will still treat Crowley as they would any other person with his classification. The aromas of nearby restaurants catch his fancy. "Some beer-battered fish and chips, maybe?"

"I like it when you make lunch, angel. I'm not that hungry." He fibs about the hunger, but his gut reveals the truth with a loud groan.

"I'll make lunch, then. If you're still hungry afterwards, you can have some cake with your milk."

Crowley smiles at that. Sweets are special, especially the ones his angel makes. Things like that make being a little much more bearable.

It was during the 14th century, his most despised memory, that Crowley rediscovered sleep...by force. He wouldn't have to explain much for his colleagues or Aziraphale to understand why he hated it. To keep it simple, there was an encounter with Pestilence, who at the time did not care who they struck with misfortune, just that they were spreading it all over the place. While diseases were most potent on mortal beings like the humans, this particular illness was strong enough to affect the corporations that angels and demons used too.

Crowley hadn't planned to be around for any of it, but his luck was unkind. The plague hit him in such a way that the cursing laid on him to mask his classification cracked a tiny bit, along with many others. Not wanting the angels to discover this weakness in their ranks (and unaware that they, too, still had their own to deal with), the demons were taken to either hell or their earthly quarters to recover and to have their curses removed then reapplied. 

These 'cracks' affected the demons in various ways until it was their turn to be treated (and with all the paperwork involved, it took decades for most). Caretakers started to care again, much more openly so. The littles started feeling very ill, ravenous for sustenance, or extremely tired. Crowley had been in the latter. And since sleeping demons were quite peaceful and not crying in pain or demanding food in large quantities, they were among the last to have their curses patched up. 

This patchwork job has given hell's little earthbound soldiers some interesting quirks. They enjoy eating and drinking, as well as sleeping, but they don't need to do it so long as their curses are in place. It's all for fun, though not all demons, especially the baselines, understand the draw. Caretakers, too, have found an interest in food from feeding their littles, out of curiosity's sake, but also do not need it.

After the plague, demons stationed on earth were much fewer, and the numbers fell back as time progressed. Crowley was seen as reliable and good at his job, so he was left unchecked to do his dirty work. So long as he was wowing Lucifer, there were no problems. And Crowley liked it that way.

In the present, it's different. Crowley's curse is completely gone. He is a little and there's no effective way to hide it. Naptime is a part of his existence again.

Aziraphale has left Crowley to entertain himself in the study, back home at the shop and their lunch finished with the dishes cleared. The little snoozes in a nest of blankets in front of his flat screen, a lavender purple pacifier fallen from his mouth and resting near his neck and shoulder, and his bear clenched tightly in his arm. Aziraphale's covered him up with an additional blanket in the last hour, which starts at his waist and covers his long, scrawny legs. There's a lot of love surrounding him. Aziraphale wonders if Crowley can feel it. He hasn't been able to in the past.

Aziraphale peers into the room to ensure all is well, but also to admire his precious demon (and wonder when he might awaken). Crowley has been sleeping more and more. First it was just one long nap in the afternoon, or a few siestas here and there when things were boring. Now he's taking a second one, and somewhat regularly.

Even though Crowley seems fine, something still seems off to the angel. Is it the television? He glances at the program with little interest, long enough to see a group of puppies in helmets and backpacks driving giant motor vehicles. How silly, but he was told this show was one of the most wholesome a child or little could watch these days. 

"Oh." That's what's off. He grins and tiptoes into the room, careful not to trip on the blankets. He looks Crowley over, then spots the pacifier. His smile spreads as he plucks it up, then slowly and carefully reintroduces the nub to Crowley's lips. He's tickled pink when Crowley takes it and starts suckling it once more, and it makes him feel warm and fuzzy to watch the demon sink deeper into the chair. He's fairly certain now, about a month in, that Crowley's headspace is that of a baby's. Bottles, excessive sleeping, the leg weakness, his periods of being mute aside from wordless noises to express his emotions and needs...it makes the most sense.

"All better." He whispers, gently stroking his little's soft ginger hair before leaving him to sleep longer. A cup of tea sounds good to him at that moment, so he exits the room with the intention of heading downstairs to miracle a cup together. "Puppies driving cars, how ridiculous." He thinks aloud.

Puppies driving cars -are- ridiculous. A scraggly, dirty, evil looking puppy with an old scarf around its neck and a frog on its head? That's ridiculous too, but it pops up on the screen from a pile of dirt on the ground, looking as though it's dug its way there. It pads to the front of the screen while the other puppies drive away into the distance, then pokes the screen like a piece of hard glass. "Hey! Wake up, you rugrat. Your favorite program is on!" it growls.

Crowley startles at the familiar voice, his pacifier dropping from his mouth yet again as he sits up straight, two sleepy golden eyes not quite certain what they're staring at. He doesn't remember seeing this character before, but its disgusting taste in fashion and lack of hygiene are familiar.

"I've got a surprise for you." Hastur sings, followed with an evil chuckle.

One would think the old duke would fumble with getting a reaction out of Crowley with such a simple, predictable trick. Perhaps his timing is perfect? Or maybe Crowley's in such a state of grogginess and confusion that he's not mentally prepared? Either way, the snake demon doesn't feel particularly threatened.

At least until a split second later, as the puppy shapeshifts into a horrific frog-shaped monster, screaming at Crowley as a plague of insects fill the background.

Another split second passes and the jump-scare is over. Crowley yelps and throws his phone at the TV. The devices collide, fall from the wall, and shatter, powering off with Hastur's laughter echoing into silence, leaving Crowley frightened, upset and confused. 

The duke doesn't normally have this effect on him, and time shouldn't have changed that. He's old and easy to outsmart. The scares are just the same. They work on humans, sure, but amongst colleagues, it does little aside from invite someone to poke fun about having a bad day.

But Crowley sits in front of the pile of pieces and shards, trying very hard to process what has happened. Something doesn't quite add up in his mind, and there's a contradiction in his memory that just makes working through it worse. He fails. He fists his blanket and wibbles, sniffling hard. His eyes burn and begin to shine with tears. There's a lot going on in his head, all because Hastur decided to drop by and be a dick.

Aziraphale is about to start a new book with a perfectly brewed cup of tea when hears the crash, and Crowley's wailing following it pulls him into caregiver mode instantly. He disappears from his chair in a snap and is in the study, quick to tend to and defend his demon.

"Crowley! It's alright, dear boy, I'm right here, I...oh dear." The angel pauses for a second to assess the situation after rushing to Crowley's side. The room is in quite a state: broken tv, broken smart phone, and one crying little, whom he scoops up from the chair to cradle close. Rather than squirm and try to slip away, Crowley just continues to cry.

"Crowley?" Aziraphale tests. "Dearest, are you hurt? What on earth happened?" But his questions remain unanswered. 

And being unanswered, he comes to a realization.

Crowley's dropped into headspace. 

All the way.

On a normal day, Crowley is, at most, halfway. He still speaks and does what he can to manage with the hinderances of his classification. He has never been immersed to a point of being just about unable to fend for himself. 

"Ohhh, there there, little one. There there." Aziraphale's volume drops, voice coated in syrupy sweetness and so much love, like a mother's calming tone. "I've got you now. It's going to be alright."

Crowley pushes his face against Aziraphale's shoulder and heaves the last of his heavy sobs out, but comfort comes in the form of gentle backrubs and kisses on top of his head. Aziraphale's love is full of warmth, and as the minutes pass, it soothes Crowley's pain enough to reduce him to soft sniffles and hiccups.

Aziraphale will clean everything up later. Crowley is his first priority. The demon has never broken down like this before, and so quickly. Usually Crowley devolves into such a state, but to wake up terrified and smaller than ever before is new.

"That must have been quite a shock." He's pretty certain Crowley is responsible for the destruction, but there has to have been a reason for him to throw one precious personal item at the other. "But not to worry, I'm here for you."

Crowley swipes across his face with his shirt sleeve, finally looking around cautiously and wide-eyed in his angel's arms. "...'ustuh?" He tries to say. "...us...stuh?"

Aziraphale doesn't quite understand, thinking it to be random baby babble. "It's alright, darling. Are you feeling better now?"

"'ustuh, 'ustuh...beevee." Crowley squirms and tries to point at the mess, but Aziraphale is strong, and encourages him to settle with a tight embrace.

"Oh, the TV? I'm afraid no more TV for the day, dear boy. No more TV for a long while, more than likely." Aziraphale laments. No more phone either. "Oh, but look! Mr. Bear is safe! He's a very lucky bear." Aziraphale sits down on the floor and plucks the doll from the blanket, holding it over Crowley as he lays in the angel's legs. He smiles brightly as Crowley slowly reaches for it as if it were brand new. The demon examines it with renewed interest, enjoying the texture of its long fur and investigating its stitched-on features curiously. "Isn't he nice and soft?" Crowley gurgles in reply.

He's not happy about whatever happened to spoil Crowley's nap, but his little is acting so sweetly and innocent for the first time he's ever seen. He's lying in his lap, hugging a teddy bear and softly murmuring mumbled gibberish as he moves its arms. Aziraphale could sit like this with him forever.

But the duke is still fresh in Crowley's mind. The little remembers there's a somewhat bigger world outside of his angel's arms and cranes his head to look at the mess. "'ustuh?" Crowley asks.

"Duster?" Aziraphale snaps out of it and tries to address Crowley's question. "Buster?" He's not quite sure what 'Ustuh' is, and the way Crowley pronounces it doesn't immediately suggest the demon's presence either.

"'ustuh!" Crowley wibbles again, and that throws his angel back into panic mode.

"There there, my dear boy. You're going to be just fine! This is completely normal. You need to enter your headspace like this, it's part of being a little. If you put it off too much, you'll be miserable. Everything will be fine..." He stands up, rocking his little back and forth as he tries to figure out what to do. Reading about caregiving and actually doing it are two very different things, but caregivers have a gung ho attitude too.

Lifting Crowley up, he feels something turn cold against his legs, and adjusting his hold on the demon, he finds that Crowley truly was frightened by what happened. "How about I run you a nice, warm bath? We'll get you out of these damp clothes and into something a lot more comfortable?" Aziraphale suggests, but Crowley continues to try to hide his face and cry. The afternoon has only just started and he's tired, scared, wet, and down two electronic devices. "It's alright, dear boy. Accidents happen. I still don't know what frightened you, but it must have been quite awful. Perhaps no TV is a good thing."

"Beevee." Crowley whines, fisting at Aziraphale's sweater.

"We'll have plenty of fun without it." Upon entering the bathroom, Aziraphale sits Crowley on the soft, pink plush-covered toilet seat. "Let's get you undressed. Do you need help?" He looks expectantly at Crowley, but the little sniffles and stares back. "Or would you like to do it by yourself, dear boy?" Crowley cants his head to the side, but lifts his arms out. "Of course, my dear. I'll help you." The angel smiles and carefully pulls the shirt off of Crowley's body. His skin is covered in beautiful dark freckles and a few dark scales on top of a pale complexion. For as long as they've known each other, he's rarely seen Crowley's skin aside from his face and hands. And yet Crowley is being so trusting.

"Alright my dear. we need to take off your pants now. Can you stand up a little for me?" Aziraphale places his hands at Crowley's sides and lifts him. Crowley pushes at the waistband of his pants and disposable underwear, but Aziraphale ends up needing to help them down the rest of the way. His socks get tugged off due to the tight ankle room of the dark jeans, leaving a mopey Crowley in his birthday suit.

"Oh no." Aziraphale mutters gravely, which causes Crowley to perk up. "The tickle-bug has come. He only comes out when there's bare feet!" Aziraphale's voice heightens and lightens the mood as he runs his fingers under the demon's scaled feet. Crowley steadies himself on the angel's shoulders and giggles up a storm, toes wiggling as he can find nothing else to do but sit and take it.

"Tee-gul buuug!" He gurgles as both catch their breath, and then Aziraphale lifts Crowley up and puts him into the miracled tub of perfectly heated water. The warmth is relaxing and calming, but Crowley whines and reaches when Aziraphale walks towards the rubbish bin and clothes hamper. 

"What's wrong, dear boy? I'm not leaving."

The arms remained extended, Crowley's eyes watering and his hands opening and closing. Across the room is too far.

"Hang on, my love." Aziraphale can't get over how adorable his demon is in his headspace. Such a needy little thing, and impossibly cute. He rushes back over and gently pets Crowley's hair. "See? Nothing to worry about! But, oh...ohhh, what's this?" 

"Tee-gul bug?" 

"Let's see..." Aziraphale reaches behind Crowley's ear, and plucks a red rubber duck with devil horns from the ether. A bigger Crowley would point out he actually used real magic to make the duck, but poking fun at his caregiver isn't even on his mind now. Instead, he marvels at the duck and holds it with both hands. "It's a new friend!"

Crowley looks to Aziraphale with awe, then immediately starts to play with it. Aziraphale kneels by the tub to supervise, allowing the demon to enjoy his time. It makes him wonder how things were before the angels and demons suppressed themselves. Did Crowley have a great caregiver? Did he have more than one? Oh, if only he could ask them what made Crowley happiest. But it would be fun to figure it out on his own, too.

A larger than expected splash of bathwater hits Aziraphale in the face, pulling his focus back to reality and Crowley, who has clearly relaxed more and become mischievous with his play.

"Goodness, I thought you were the only one taking a bath today, Crowley." Aziraphale comments. Crowley giggles in reply, splashing more. "Why don't we save some bathwater to wash you up with?" Crowley pouts, curling on his side and laying in the tub, holding the duck under his chin with a frown. "I know, you're having so much fun. But you're going to shrivel up into a prune if you sit in there much longer." Crowley thinks on his words, then drops the toy to show his angel his corporation's wrinkly fingers with a giggle. "Oh, you've already started! Come on dear boy, the only thing worse than pruned fingers is cold water."

That facts seems to concern Crowley, so he sits up and scoots closer to Aziraphale.

"That's my boy. Let's get you squeaky clean." Crowley squeezes the rubber duck to make it squeak. "Yes, that's right." Crowley's humor hasn't been lost to the drop, it seems. There's always a shred of adulthood tethered to a little's headspace, no matter how deep.

Crowley melts into Aziraphale's touch. The bathwater is rewarmed with a little miracle, just long enough that the angel can wash the demon thoroughly. He watches the wet cloth cover him in soapy suds and simply breathes, smiling when Aziraphale kisses his cheek every few moments.

"Kiss." Crowley points to his other cheek at one point.

"Oh dear, did I miss one? Mwuh."

Soon, the bathwater swirls down the drain, and Aziraphale carries his towel-wrapped bundle of joy back to the bedroom and lays him on the bed. Surprisingly, Crowley stays put, pulling the towel around him for warmth as his caregiver quietly plans the little's afternoon wardrobe in his head. Warmth and protection are the biggest concerns. Most babyish littles prefer the extra protection of a nappy, yet Crowley has only recently started wearing the minimal, and that's only for outings. Sometimes Crowley even realizes he's about to wet, and can miracle himself dry. But with the state of his pants after the scare, perhaps its best, he decides, to be safe.

"I'm going to put you in a nice, fresh nappy, dear. Is that alright? You don't want to ruin anymore of your nice clothes, right?"

Crowley stares back, fangs clamped around the tailfeathers of his rubber duck, and says nothing.

"Look at how silly you are. Is your duckie delicious?" Aziraphale coos, and Crowley gurgles behind it. Aziraphale places everything out in his little's line of vision slowly, but there is no adverse reaction to any of it. Even when Aziraphale begins to unfold the diaper, Crowley is more than relaxed.

"Perhaps this is normal for you at the moment." He figures Crowley will speak up if something is not to his liking. Hopes he will. But then it hits him.

"What am I thinking? This isn't your first drop." He thinks aloud. "This is just your first drop -with me-. Well, hopefully not the last. You're an absolute delight."

Crowley doesn't wince or wiggle at all. He trusts his angel no matter what state he's in. The demon allows him to do what is needed, content to play with his duck...and the bath towel when he rediscovers it nearby. He covers his face with it, waiting for Aziraphale to see what he's done. He knows he's got his attention when the angel chuckles.

"Oh no, where did Crowley go? He was here just a moment ago." He sings, securing the disposable nappy snugly around the demon's waist. "I will be ever so sad if I can't find him."

There's a ghost of a giggle, and then Crowley whips the towel away, impatient and eager to surprise his caregiver with a toothy smile.

"There's my sweet boy!" He bends over Crowley and covers his face with kisses. But of course, he can't resist playing the same joke on his little, pulling the towel over his own face. "Uh oh, where did your angel go?"

Crowley gasps, but he knows the game well, and immediately tugs the towel out of his angel's hands. "Angel!" He giggles. "Foun' you!"

Aziraphale practically melts at those few words. "You most certainly did! Alright, let's get you into something nice and cozy."

He manages Crowley into a tartan nightie and slipper socks with coated soles to protect his feet. But even so, Aziraphale has yet to tire of carrying his little one around the flat, especially now that he's in better spirits and successfully distracted from the damages caused earlier. There's a fullness in Aziraphale's heart that comforts and invigorates him with Crowley like this, and they twirl dramatically around the shop without music, Crowley nuzzling his angel the entire time. Neither wants to let the other go, at least not until there's a suggestion of having some cocoa.

Aziraphale lets Crowley down on the floor beside him so that he can put the stove on, but the little is too worried to leave his caregiver's side despite being in familiar territory. Miracles make Aziraphale's task a little easier, since having an arm wrapped around his leg creates minor difficulty.

"Almost done, my dear." Aziraphale reassures him as he adds cool milk to lessen the heat of Crowley's serving, which goes into a bottle that the angel will ensure won't burn Crowley's tongue or hands or warp the plastic.

"Oh-co?"

Aziraphale doesn't know what to do with himself; whenever Crowley speaks, it strikes him right in the heart with a hefty dose of innocence and sweetness. "Yes, we'll have some hot cocoa in a moment. Do you want to pick out a story from your book collection?" Crowley reluctantly releases his angel, and crawls over to his belongings to pick one out.

"Ohh, that one's my favorite too." Crowley holds up his choice as Aziraphale places the bottle and mug on the end table beside his guidebook. They both snuggle together on the couch, Crowley finding his preferred seat in the angel's lap with a new blanket to cover them both in warmth and adorable kitty cats.

Aziraphale reads, the pages of the book miraculously turning on their own accord as he has no free hands to do it manually. One hand must lovingly support his baby, and the other feed him his bottle, as Crowley's hands are busy holding his teddy bear. 

It'll be an early night for the demon, but if he wakes up later, that's more than alright. They'll take and adapt to each hour and each day just as they always have. Crowley might still be little, or he'll return to the halfway point between big and small. Either way, his angel will be there for him.


End file.
